


I can't lose anyone else, I already lost myself

by Shockey13



Category: Homeland
Genre: -once they appear, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-07 21:37:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3184040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shockey13/pseuds/Shockey13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first, it all made sense and it was perfect, until it all fell apart in an instant. </p><p>Thoughts invade Carrie's mind, the ones that she hadn't entirely reconciled with after her mother's revelation. She's forced to expose her past to convince herself it's true. Front and center, it's all she can think about and the decisions she's made because of it. *Rated T for now*</p><p>Basically Carrie's back story, beginning when she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prison

**Author's Note:**

> Begins when she leaves Dar Adal's house in "Long time coming". Multi-chapter fic, likely to be chronological. Characters to be added when they come into play.

* * *

 

She's driving fast - way to fast - she doesn't even know it. Just slowing down when she hits a red light, then she hits the gas again, not exactly sure where she's going. Anywhere but where she just came from.

Now she's finally having a chance to think about what's next. It's what she needs to do, but somehow she can only think of the past. About the things that brought her to where she is right here right now in this car. Alone as usual of course. In fact, more alone than ever.

Lovable? She repeats over and over trying to convince herself it's true - that it can happen - because it hasn't. A severe intervention is needed for her brain to process it, embrace it. Trying desperately to accept it's absoluteness, undoing absoluteness somehow. She unwillingly begins reminiscing over the past fifteen years, wondering what would have been different, for herself or anyone else around her. Probably everything, maybe nothing.

She doesn't want to think about, but it's fresh, starting with the word escaping the doctor's mouth. The feeling was there after it happened, but became real soon after. The word "bipolar" making it's way into her ears, bringing on a life of it's own. She's stamped then, branded forever.

She remembers the immediate pain in her former heart that her own mother didn't even love her. That's why she wasn't there right beside her, holding her hand, shelling out words of encouragement. None of that. Her mother not showing was worse than being in that fucking hospital. Her first bond in life completely shattered into a million pieces. With it were pieces of herself that she still can't put together. Her scars however, invisible.

Had she ever loved her? Any of them? It was impossible to believe otherwise. Most likely exiled her and Maggie too, because they belonged to Frank. A transcended illness condemning everything, anything and anyone involved. Enough of a reason right there, she understood it, but never actually accepted it.

The paranoia had engulfed her. Scared to death looks on the hospital staffs' faces. They were looking at her face. That's what she saw at least, like they wanted to run from her. They wanted to hide as far away as possible. Forced her to swallow pills, harsh scripted commands shouted to her, restraints too powerful to escape from; all apart of her life now.

It was tolerable when no one was in there at all. No one there to judge her or give her their 'expert opinion' or ask questions that she didn't want to answer. At least then she could harbor herself under the blankets so that she didn't have to look at the room, constantly being reminded of where she was.

After being delivered in heavy doses, the meds finally set in. They act like a parasite and she's the host. They're picking at her brain, taking it apart little by little, until it's nothing but extra flesh. Just dead weight attached to her body that makes her feel extinct. She's not functioning to any capacity besides the automatic breaths keeping her alive. Only perplexed thoughts are arising, making absolutely no sense to her. She's a prisoner in her own body and it's a life sentence. The Carrie Mathison she knew, perpetually faded away.

 


	2. The dorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for reviewing. I've been toying with this one for awhile. This next chapter covers a few things: Why Maggie and Carrie's relationship is what it is, Carrie and Frank's relationship immediately after her first episode, Carrie discovering new things about her illness, and how foreign policy became integrated into her life.

* * *

 

Maggie had tried her best to come home to see her, she really did. Carrie still knows this. She had been a first year resident at her medical school all the way in California and just couldn't do it. Carrie also knows that Maggie still feels guilty about it and that she's still trying to make up for it - even though she doesn't have to. She'd never really considered her sister then. All that shit happening thousands of miles away and not a thing she could do to fix it.

Frank had insisted that she come home, but she doesn't. He begged her relentlessly at the hospital. She didn't even want to be in the same fucking room with him, and she knew that he knew why and that it was breaking his heart.

The pills become a routine when she comes back to her dorm and it's absolute solitude. Only taking them to avoid that prison. If it meant being a zombie then so be it. They were a fucking poison though.

She can't concentrate. Feels useless. Skips class. She stumbles on a world news station after one of her fourteen hour naps and watches it for two days straight, forgetting to take her pills, watching coverage in Iraq and having no idea why.

She feels it might be coming again, an episode. At first she doesn't care or do anything about it. Then she's in a limbo. A margin that she wants to control, has to control, because it's the closest thing to control that she'd felt. Her energy is back in an invigorating way. She cuts the pills into tiny pieces to take them in smaller doses to keep herself there, on the edge. It's the brim of mania where she finds a thread of satisfaction.

It's thrilling actually. Her mind and body creating a productive dynamic. Functioning becomes much easier. An experiment well done she'd thought.

She becomes obsessed with foreign affairs; spending every waking hour watching coverage in the Middle East, reading every detail about the gulf war, writing down what came into her mind in the moment. Staying up for twenty hours a day to do so. She's occupied finally.

Then she comes across something else. An article about a Gulf war veteran. One who became a domestic terrorist. Timothy McVeigh was his name. She recalls the incident from a few years back, never invested or interested until now. It was a tragedy, the Oklahoma City bombing. One hundred and sixty eight lives lost that day, hundreds more injured. She thinks about why it happened in the first place, why it was never stopped.

It manifests into her conscious like a magnetizing force, pulling her in it's entirety. She wants to know more, more about these people who were worse than her. Most of them residing in the Middle East. Distinctly remembers how she thought about how fucking horrible these people were, because they were. People who hurt other innocent people without a care. For days on end she probes into the lives of terrorists, delving into their motives. Questions what makes them tick.

She's afraid that she doesn't know what makes her tick, makes her bomb go off. And she's terrified of finding out.

It's what she fears now the most now - who she crosses paths with. Still unaware of her capabilities. Petrified of harming them, scaring them too, like she scares herself. At any minute she feels like she can burst into a lunatic, erupting pure havoc. She knows that she's impulsive and sometimes aggressive, but never sinister - at least hopes not.

She thought about when she wasn't occupied with her readings or newscast. Pondering about leaving her room - it had been at least three weeks. So one day she does it and she learns a lot more about her new self than she wanted to. Wonders if that changed everything.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There should be 1 or 2 more chapters about her time in school, then I'll get into Langley/Saul. I'm planning to build it up to where she is right now. That could take awhile.


	3. The real world

She finally takes a shower, washing away weeks of her lack of giving a shit. Finds the makeup on her vanity, untouched the past two months. Decided to put some on.

The mirror was in front of her the whole time, but she hadn't really looked into it. Now took the time to really see her new self. See what changed. Still saw the same person. But the more she looked, the more she saw a person she didn't recognize. Made herself believe she was wrong. It had been all in her head. In fact, she looked good.

* * *

She found a notice outside her door. The first thing she saw out there, a warning of eviction. Another rejection, her fault she knew it. Something she knew she had to deal with soon. For the time being just threw it in the trash.

Alone in the dorm Cafeteria, she finally gets a decent meal. She picks up the news paper on the table, the world news section had practically been discarded from the rest. It's the only part she wants.

She's more distracted than she thought she'd be, listening to everyone's conversations. They're talking about where they'd be going, who they'd be with on their Friday night. But she doesn't bother striking up conversation, just sticks to her reading material.

Out of the corner of her eye she can see him looking at her. His curiosity about her. She knows he's dying to ask why she's sitting alone. Has a hard time not smiling at him, but doesn't. First people who'd looked at her like that since.

It wasn't that bad, the first time back in the world. Thought she'd might try it again. Knows that she needs to go to speak to her administrators soon.

* * *

It was a fast paced walk back to her room though. Knew it was time to take her pills again. Had the key in the door. Then he was calling for her.

She struggled with the key trying so hard to ignore him, dropping it. He had approached her quickly, not having enough time to avoid him. At first she hadn't make eye contact.

Shit what was his name again - Cody - no Cory. Yes Cory was the first person she can remember talking to.

Then he grabbed her arm stopping her. Freaked out by the sudden contact, she had flinched backed in a hurry. Timid in asking him not to do it again. She can't speak. Had someone taken her voice too? Reminded her once again of being in the hospital. But his face had been inviting. All he was able to see was her from the outside.

Her eyes flicker to him, still not speaking to him. He'd invited her to a party. She couldn't believe he had - remembered him from orientation. Wanted so badly to say yes, yet so badly needed to say no, ultimately declined.

He'd been so nice though, so kind. She invites him in instead. Her dorm was actually decent for once.

He had some ecstasy and some weed. Says they can just have a party in her room. Not the worst idea at the time. Another outlet to keep her mind off things. And it was fucking nice having company for once.

* * *

They each took one, starting to feel the effects. Everything felt so fucking good, so surreal. Just him brushing his arm against her when he handed her the bong. Completely raptured in the time being. She felt so alive, and horny. All the while forgetting to take her pills.

When he began kissing her, she let him, started kissing him. He started taking off her shirt off, she let him. Her libido had reached a point beyond the apex. His touch, her touch from another world.

She'd been kneeling over the bed letting him take her, letting herself be taken. It just seemed right. She'd never had better sex in her life until this point. Her senses heightened to a new level.

* * *

Expected him to leave after, just walk out without a word. But he'd stayed. Occupied her space as if it were his own. Made them food. Asked her about school, about life in general. She had felt the drugs wearing off as each moment passed, all of them.

Eventually she opened up. Was speaking pretty quickly. Tells him about her interest in terrorists. Told him that she wants to stop them. Until calls her the word and everything changes. Called her crazy.

It was the first time someone had called her that. She snapped, began hitting him, screaming at him. Not even sure what she said exactly. A rage became of her, one she hadn't recognized. One that eclipsed the context in which he was using the word. He said it.

He told her to calm down, apologized. Even tried to let her outbursts go, offering her the bong again. Almost as if it were a joke.

She hadn't believed him. Threw him, his clothes and his stuff out the door. Furious that she thought things wouldn't end the way they did. That he called her what she was so desperately trying to convince herself she wasn't.

Alone again, her breathing overcame her. She rushed to her pills, cried while she took them. The mirror in plain view again when she shut the cabinet. She took another look. A long, exaggerated gaze into her eyes. No, she wasn't, and could never be herself again.

Dwells over what he said. What he actually said, 'that's crazy'. He never called her crazy.

 


End file.
